The Missing Millionaire

“We could have found a pay phone at that exit.”

“I know. I also know you don’t have any change. I dressed you.”

Disconcerted, he couldn’t decide which was more disturbing, the fact that she was right about the change, or the fact that she’d dressed him. He always slept in the nude.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any change, either,” she added.

“You don’t need change to dial 911.”

She cut him a look. “I have no intention of dialing 911.”

That answered the question of what she’d say to the police if they were stopped.

“You could use a credit card.”

Her scornful expression deepened.

“Where are we going?”

She said nothing for so long he decided she wasn’t going to answer.

“We should get rid of this car,” she told him finally.

“What, you don’t like the color?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “It’s been sitting outside that farmhouse all evening. We’re lucky it wasn’t rigged to explode, too.”

“Now, there’s a cheery thought.” He shifted at the memory of those horrific explosions.

“It could also have a tracer on it in case one of us did escape.”

“Just who do you think is after me?”

“Someone willing to kill four people without remorse.”

Put that way, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

JAMIE DEBATED HER OPTIONS. She could steal a car, but the minute she stopped, Trent was apt to take off. Part of her thought that would be just as well, but she couldn’t leave him undefended after promising to guard him.

Tony wouldn’t be happy when she showed up on his doorstep, but what other option did she have? She wasn’t about to ask Harrison Trent if he was involved in organized crime. He might say yes, and she really wanted to like him. He knew how to keep his head. Despite the drug messing with his system, he’d been quick to seize an opportunity when she’d inadvertently presented one. And he’d actually tried to save the other women even though they’d drugged and kidnapped him.

Ruefully, she realized the millionaire was handling the situation better than she was. Jamie didn’t want to discover he’d made his money in the same line of work as Tony’s former boss.

Whoever was behind the explosions would expect her to go to Tony if they knew she’d survived. But did they know? It all came down to whether the devices had been remotely triggered or on timers.

Her knowledge of bombs was rudimentary at best. Still, it galled her that she had walked into that farmhouse like a sheep last night. Not one of them had thought to check the place over when they returned, and she knew better. Foolishly, her chief concern at the time had been defending Trent’s questionable virtue from Kirsten and Elaine. She wasn’t altogether sure he’d thank her for that, but he and his friend hadn’t ogled the dancers that evening. In fact, Trent had almost looked pained at times.

Except when she’d caught him looking at her.

The memory provoked a tiny shiver. He’d been curious about her. She’d seen it in the way his eyes had followed her. Jamie had been surprised and more than a little flattered. She was blessed with attractive, if average, features, but certainly not the sort that normally drew a man’s gaze in a roomful of half-naked women. And more disturbing, she wasn’t immune to him, either. Even now, knowing he was engaged and possibly a member of organized crime, she found him extremely attractive.

Hastily, she shoved the thought aside. She needed to concentrate. She’d seen no sign of pursuit since they’d driven away, but that didn’t mean no one was back there. Most likely, the explosives had been on timers. They’d been well planted to effectively block all the main exits. Someone had wanted to make very sure no one escaped that inferno. The chilling thought brought a shiver straight down her spine. Would she have found the devices if she’d done her job right?

Jamie turned her mind from useless speculation.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?”

She hesitated at his question, but what was the point? “We’re going to try and stop another murder.”

“Laudable goal. How many of us did you kidnap tonight?”

She sent him a glare.

“Okay then, who else is going to be murdered?”

“The people who set up your kidnapping.”

“You want to share a little here?”

“No.”

“Right. How are we going to prevent them from being murdered?”

Jamie inhaled. “I have no idea.”

Only the barest hint of light streaked the horizon. The fatigue tugging at her brain told Jamie daybreak was fast approaching. The suburban streets were still empty as she steered the car into Tony’s subdivision.

Harrison Trent had fallen silent after their last exchange, for which Jamie was grateful. He didn’t need to know how rattled she was. None of her extensive training had left her prepared for the reality of almost dying on the job. The stench of the smoke clung to her hair and clothing despite the windows she’d opened to air them out. The knowledge that Kirsten and Elaine had died because she hadn’t done her job well enough was a weight on her soul.

So far, she’d managed to keep the shakes at bay. Unfortunately, she knew she was heading for a meltdown. The only thing that kept her going was the certainty that it wasn’t Tony who had set them up to die. Tony and Carolyn were in deadly danger from whoever had.

Turning the corner onto their street sent a new surge of apprehension pouring through her. Their house was near the middle of the block, and it glowed like a Christmas tree. Lights blazed behind the curtained windows on the first floor. Tony and Carolyn were early risers, but not this early.

Harrison Trent straightened in his seat. “It’s the house with the lights on, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like we’re expected.”

Jamie cruised past slowly while her heart hammered in her chest. Carolyn’s dark SUV sat in the driveway. Tony’s fancy sports car was probably inside the detached garage along with his souped-up sedan.

“The SUV belongs there?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.”

She circled the block looking for anything out of place. Every parked car was suspect. She watched for the slightest motion. Nothing. Not even a stray cat or dog disturbed the stillness.

She stared at the house as she drove past again at a crawl. “It’s too quiet.”

“It’s early Saturday morning. What do you expect? Most people sleep in on weekends.”

Jamie pulled over at the end of the street. She turned off the headlights, but left the engine running. “Wait here while I check this out.”

“Not going to happen.”

Her body hummed with tension. “Then take the car.You can leave.” After all, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“As tempting as that offer is, I believe I’ll stay with you for now.”

“Mr. Trent, I’m serious.”

“So am I. I deserve some answers.”

She exhaled loudly. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Then turn off the engine and stop arguing.”

Her hand shook as she obeyed. “The people who blew up the farmhouse may be inside there.”

“I got that, but you’re going in, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going with you. I have a few things to say to these people.”

Jamie growled. “You aren’t going to be reasonable about this, are you?” She pulled the gun from her ankle strap. He eyed it and her, but didn’t appear intimidated.

“I’m a businessman, Jamie. I’m always reasonable. Let’s go.” He opened the car door.

Jamie saw no option. She couldn’t force him to wait, and panic hovered, a mere breath away. Something was badly wrong inside, she sensed it.

“Let me lead,” she ordered. “If anything goes wrong—”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

She shook her head.

“You wouldn’t have another gun, would you?”

“No.” The last thing she wanted was a person she couldn’t predict at her back armed with a weapon.

Without another word she began running toward the house. Hopefully, anyone seeing them would take them for a pair of early morning joggers trying to beat the August heat and not notice the gun she tried to conceal in her hand.

Passing Tony’s house, she saw no sign of movement inside. She went up the driveway of the silent house next door. Trent got points for not asking more questions as Jamie led him around to the back and cut through to Tony and Carolyn’s yard. Their kitchen light tossed shadows across the porch and down onto the manicured lawn. Nothing moved inside or out. Fear pulsed with every beat of her heart.

Skipping the back door, she went around to the side entrance where it was dark. Trent remained silent as she pulled out her keys and inserted one in the lock. Jamie stiffened. The door swung open at the first touch without the turn of the key.

Her heart threatened to explode as she eased inside. Muted voices came from the living room. Jamie paused to listen.

The television, she realized when background music started to play. Tony wouldn’t be watching television at this hour. Something was horribly wrong.

Staying against the wall, she moved up the stairs to the softly glowing kitchen.

Chapter Three

Harrison gave her space and followed quietly. Jamie was obviously spooked at finding the door unlocked. He was more than a little spooked himself. What was he doing here? He should have taken the car and gone for the police.

Maybe it was the drugs still in his system, or maybe he was punchy from exhaustion, but the night had taken on a surrealism that made thinking straight difficult. This was quite possibly the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life.

The smell hit him even before Jamie stilled so abruptly that he bumped into her back. Beyond her shoulder he took in the scene with a detached sense of horror.

A crumpled form lay on the tiled floor surrounded by a pool of dark blood. The microwave door gaped open above the body. An unpopped bag of popcorn was still clutched in lifeless fingers.

Harrison forced himself to study the scene and his brain went numb with shock. Ceecee. Impossible. That couldn’t be Ceecee. Not here. Not lying dead like this.

Ceecee was vibrantly alive. She’d always been an attractive woman, and yes, she’d be in her late fifties now. And her hair had always been dark and soft, her body trim, but always in motion. The summery yellow slacks and casual shirt were so typical of what he remembered, but this couldn’t be her.

Ceecee had an infectious laugh. She had a way of listening to someone as if they were the most important person in her world. She’d been his mother’s best friend since before he’d been born.

When he was a boy, Ceecee Carillo would call or turn up every so often no matter where they lived. Their home was always brighter for her visits. His mother was laughing constantly during her stays even when they only sat around the kitchen table, chatting and giggling like a pair of schoolgirls. And Ceecee had always had a present for him when she came. She treated him as if he were another adult, not some boring little kid.

Until the year he turned fourteen. After his kidnapping, she didn’t come anymore. He’d thought it was because they’d moved and his mother was afraid to have visitors. He knew she still talked to Ceecee on the phone after that, but she didn’t laugh and she always seemed sad afterward.

He’d never asked why Ceecee didn’t come anymore. Now, staring at her lifeless body, Harrison realized it was one question he should have asked.

The kitchen was neat and clean. There were no signs of a struggle. It appeared as if someone had walked up behind her as she went to place the popcorn in the microwave and had shot her through the back of the head. Either she knew her killer and didn’t fear him, or she never heard him coming.

Harrison glanced at Jamie. She stared at the body through a film of moisture. He had known the dead woman as Ceecee, but Jamie had called her Carolyn. Carolyn Carillo. Ceecee. It must have been his mother’s nickname for her.

The gaze Jamie turned to him held a dark well of pain that trapped his tumbling questions in his throat. Ceecee had been important to her as well.

Oh, God, surely not her mother.

Before he could utter a word, Jamie’s gaze hardened. She held up a palm, indicating he should wait. The smell of death made his stomach roil. Ceecee was stiff and utterly lifeless. She had been dead for some time.

Apparently, Jamie agreed. She made no move to cross the room. Instead, she glided cautiously toward the entrance beyond the kitchen.

Harrison turned from the scene more slowly, still reeling from the shock of recognition. He watched where he walked as he followed in Jamie’s wake. The last thing he wanted to do was step on anything in a crime scene. His stretched nerves screamed at him. They should call the police and leave the scene, but he wasn’t going without Jamie. He wanted answers.

Harrison found her in the living room beside a plush leather recliner and the slumped body of an older man. Even from a distance Harrison could see that the man had been killed like Ceecee. The killer had walked up behind his chair and shot him through the temple, no doubt using a silencer.

Jamie lightly touched the man’s cheek with a fingertip. Once again, the eyes she turned toward Harrison brimmed with unshed tears. Who were these people to her?

Had Ceecee been married? How could he not even know that much about his mother’s oldest friend?

Once more he started to speak. Once more Jamie shook her head sharply and motioned him to stay put.

She flowed up the staircase on silent feet. His stomach twisted at the thought that there might be more bodies up there. He didn’t want to follow her up those stairs. He didn’t want to see her find more death.

He scanned the cozy living room. Two glasses partially filled with dark liquid sat on the table between the two chairs. If the glasses had once held ice, it had long since melted. The chairs were side by side facing the television set, where an old movie was playing on one of the cable stations. The dialogue and spurts of music were the only sounds in the silent house.

The couple had obviously settled down for the evening to watch television together. At some point Ceecee had gotten up to make popcorn. The killer had probably entered through the side door they had used and shot one after the other.

His gaze fell on the table behind the couch, where several framed photographs held prominence. The couple appeared much younger in most shots, and so obviously in love. The two wedding photos had been taken sometime in the early sixties. His stomach clenched when his mother’s face stared out at him from the group shot. Vibrantly lovely in her youth, she posed beside the bride, obviously Ceecee’s maid of honor.

How? Why? All sorts of wild conjectures swirled through his head.

There were several photographs of Jamie as a teenager with her hair long and thick and curling past her shoulders as she posed with the couple. Another showed her in a military dress uniform, looking crisp and solemn. The final photo appeared to be more recent. She stood between the couple in front of a Christmas tree with her hair short and choppy, the way she wore it now. There were no shots of her as a child.

Were these her parents? Some other relatives? He saw no physical resemblance between them, but they appeared to be a family unit.

Abruptly, he realized Jamie had stopped being silent. She was moving about rapidly overhead as if speed was of the essence. He mounted the stairs quietly.

“Don’t touch anything,” she ordered, leaving a room at the end of the hall with a duffel bag in her hand.

Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the house, despite the muted irritant of the television in the background.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He followed her into what appeared to be the master bedroom. Inside the closet she opened a gun case with a key and pulled out several weapons and ammunition.

“Here.” She handed him a 9 mm. “Do you know how to use this?”

His eyes narrowed. “Point this end and pull here. Most five-year-olds have the gist.”

“You’ve never fired a gun.”

She said it flatly as if it was a stupid omission.

“Shooting a gun never made my to-do list.”

“Maybe you’d better give it back.”

“I don’t think so. Is there a safety on this thing?”

She muttered something under her breath and indicated the switch. “Move this. The gun is fully loaded, so leave it on for now. I don’t want you shooting me by mistake.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

He jammed the heavy metal object into his waistband, the way he’d seen it done in the movies. Hopefully the gun couldn’t go off on its own and blow away something vital.

Scowling, she shoved another weapon in her duffel bag. “If they know we escaped, they’ll come back here. They’ll know this is where I’d head.”

“Who will know?”

“That’s what I plan to find out.” Her voice was brittle, underscored by anguish. She suddenly whirled on him, her features a mask of pain. “Who are you? What makes you worth all these lives?”

Stunned, Harrison gaped at her. “You’re blaming me for this?”

“You’re the focal point.”

He struggled to bank his answering swell of anger as she shoved another gun in the back waistband of her pants beneath her shirt. Boxes of shells went into the duffel bag.

“Let me remind you that you kidnapped me.”

Leaving the bag open, she ignored that and sized him up with eyes that were haunted by grief. “Thirty-six-inch waist?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Thirty-four.”

“Close enough.” She reached in and pulled out a pair of men’s jeans and added them to the bag that already held clothing.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She tossed in a couple of shirts as well.

“I have my own clothes.”

“Not with you.”

He shook his head as she added more items with no wasted motions. “I’m six-one.”

“So?”

“The man downstairs—”

The look of pain on her face rocked him back. “His name was Tony. He was five-eleven.”

Tony, not Dad. “Who—?”

“Later. We need to move. I don’t think they rigged this house to explode or it probably would have by now, but I don’t have time to be sure.”

Cold swept him.

“Let’s go.” She closed the duffel bag and handed it to him. “You carry it. I’ll take point.” She reached the doorway in two strides.

“Why aren’t we calling the police?” Why hadn’t he done that instead of standing around like a brain-dead fool?

She didn’t bother responding. His gut coiled as he realized she really did think the house might explode. They exited the way they’d entered with no last glance at either body. If it hadn’t been for her obvious grief, he’d have thought she didn’t care.

His own mind was numb with what he dimly recognized as shock. He couldn’t help the accompanying fear that this house might blow up at their backs as well.

Instead of running back to her car, Jamie ran to the two-car garage behind the house. She bypassed the zippy bright red sports car and unlocked the large black sedan beside it. “Get in.”

“What about your car?”

“It’s a rental. We need to get rid of it. Toss the bag in the back.”

Harrison obeyed. He climbed in as she opened the garage door with a remote clipped to the visor. “What about the SUV in the driveway behind us?”

“I’ll go around it.”

He looked back through the darkly tinted windows and swallowed a protest. He’d have sworn there wasn’t enough room between the house and the big SUV for this large sedan, but he’d have been wrong. She drove with an impressive precision, scraping neither the house nor the car and barely slowing down in the process.

She braked as soon as she reached her rental car. “Here.” She handed him the keys.

“What’s to stop me from leaving?”

“Not a thing. I almost wish you would. But you won’t survive another twenty-four hours on your own. You seem to be a slow learner, Mr. Trent. Someone wants you dead and they don’t care who else they have to kill to make it so.”

There was cold certainty in her voice. Harrison didn’t understand what was happening here, but he could tell she believed every word she was saying. “Pretty sure of your abilities, aren’t you?”

Her expression didn’t change. “There’s a good chance neither one of us is going to survive the next twenty-four hours, but I have the expertise to try. What about you?”

There was nothing he could say to that.

“There’s a gas station not far from here where we can leave the rental.”

“You know who’s behind these attacks.”

She didn’t flinch at the accusation. “No.”

“You’ve got some idea.” He could see that she did.

“Either follow me or go, but get out of the car.”

It was her inner anguish that decided him. “I’ll stick with you.” He wanted answers and she was going to give them to him one way or another.

Harrison stepped from the sedan and moved to the smaller car. He stayed right behind her as she drove the speed limit out of the development. Obviously, she didn’t want to draw any attention to them.

His mind mulled over the little he knew, trying to fit pieces together. There were too many pieces missing, too many answers he might never know. He wished his mother was still alive so he could ask her all the questions filling him.

Pulling into a closed gas station, Jamie motioned him to park along the side where similar cars were stacked two deep. He did and got out of the rental. She left the sedan’s engine running, got out, took the rental’s keys from him along with the paperwork that sat inside the glove compartment. Dropping everything in a slot in the door of the gas station, she ran back to the sedan. Only then did he see the discreet sign that the station acted as a rental place as well.

“Let’s go,” she called to him.

He joined her in the sedan. “Where?”

Jamie’s response was to pull the car out into the early morning traffic. Harrison saw her fatigue now that the adrenaline rush had begun to fade. “How long have you been up?”

She darted a surprised glance his way. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not and I got some sleep before you attacked me.”

“I didn’t attack you.”

“Drugged, abducted, taped and secured in a strange location. What would you call it?”

“My job. We can sleep later.”

“You’re right about the sleep, anyhow. We need to go to Zoe’s apartment.”

“Not a chance.”

“Stop the car.”

Her glare was quelling. “You still don’t get it!”

“I get it fine.” He interrupted the start of her next tirade. “Someone wants me dead. And that same someone may want her dead as well. It’s the next place they’ll target. We both know that. I’m going there with you or alone. They already believe they killed us,” he added over the objection she started to make. “And if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. I am going to Zoe’s.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive here.”

“Try keeping us all alive. Zoe’s pregnant.”

He didn’t know what had made him add that last, but she stilled.

“We’re getting married this morning,” he reminded her.

“No. You aren’t. And before you jump all over me again, your wedding is scheduled for eleven. I was supposed to keep you safe until noon. That should tell you something, Mr. Trent. Someone does not intend for your wedding to take place.”

Harrison forced his fingers to uncurl. “Why not?”

“I don’t know! Maybe Tony knew, but Tony’s dead.” Pain laced her words.

“Who was Tony to you?”

Jamie released a slow breath. “The closest thing I had to a father.”

Her voice broke. Automatically, his hand started toward her to offer comfort. He lowered it without touching her. “I’m sorry.”